No Night For Gin [The Authority
by DuAnn Cowart
Summary: Post Authority #8 story.


Disclaimers: The Authority was created by Warren Ellis and 

Bryan Hitch and belongs to Wildstorm/DC Comics. It is, 

incidentally, quite a worthwhile book. If you haven't given 

it a try yet, I recommend that you do so. No ownership or 

authorization is is hereby claimed, and no copyright 

infringement is intended. This is an unauthorized work of 

fiction, and no consideration of any sort is rendered or 

received in any form or manner in exchange for any part of 

this story.   
  


This takes place a few hours after The Authority #8, parts 

of which are cited herein. All standard disclaimers apply. 

This story is rated PG-13 for language and references to 

violence. 

Many thanks to Matt Nute, Alicia McKenzie, Kaylee and 

especially Falstaff for background information and betaing 

for this story. They were instrumental in assisting me in 

this story. I, however, take full responsibilty for any 

errors in characterization and/or storyline that may occur 

herein.   
  


Feedback would be greatly appreciated, as this is a first 

effort with these particular characters.   
  
  
  


No Night For Gin   
  
  
  


"By now, everyone on that piece of land is exploded and 

frozen, unprotected in space. . ." -The Doctor, Authority 

8.   
  
  
  


Angie knelt over the toilet, bare forehead pressed against 

the cold ceramic surface, the Doctor's words reverberating 

through her mind. She closed her eyes and, strained muscles 

cramping in protest, again emptied the contents of her 

stomach into the bowl.   
  


Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she leaned 

back, bare legs curling underneath her on the Carrier's 

alien floor. It was over; they'd done it. As Jenny had so 

proudly proclaimed, the team had finished what it had set 

out to do. They had 'changed things for the better', 

whatever that meant. Regis was dead. The Blues were 

destroyed. There would be no more disgusting rape camps, no 

more torture or murders under the iron rule of the Blues, 

either on Albion or on their own Earth.   
  


She shuddered, remembering Jenny's heated words about the 

atrocities that had been committed, Jack's hushed 

descriptions of the horrors the Albion cities had conveyed 

to him. No, she had no doubts that killing Regis and his 

minions had been the right thing to do.   
  


At least, that's what she told herself, when she wasn't 

fixating on the enormity of what they'd done. The Authority 

had reshaped an entire planet to be the way they thought it 

should be. They'd rebuilt a world in their own image, 

played God with an entire civilization, and in doing so 

they'd wiped out most of the parallel Earth's version of 

Italy.   
  


'We did what we had to do,' she told herself sternly. 'We 

wiped out their central government- the peninsula was 

predominantly populated by the Blues. . .' The thoughts 

turned darker. 'And their slaves, and those poor women 

imprisoned in the rape camps, and whatever other innocents 

were trapped in the country through no fault of their own. 

. .'   
  


She rose unsteadily, balancing against the sink with the 

palms of both hands. After washing her face, she lifted a 

pointed chin to glance at her reflection in the mirror. The 

woman staring back at her was pale, haggard, and looked as 

if she hadn't slept in weeks.   
  


'I look like shit.'   
  


Snorting humorlessly, she left the room behind to wander 

restlessly around the alien quarters that had been 

outfitted for her use. Shortly after Jenny had recruited 

her into The Authority, she and the Doctor had found the 

Carrier and made it their base. The Carrier itself had 

welcomed them, proving itself more than amenable to 

adapting itself to fit the needs of the human beings now 

living on board. The curves of the walls, the sheen of the 

material were all still inherently alien, but at least the 

place now felt more like home.   
  


To her, anyway. Jack and Jenny and Shen had been so busy 

over the last few years with StormWatch Black that they 

hadn't had much time to give thought to such matters. The 

Midnighter and Apollo had lived on the streets so long that 

'home' didn't really have much meaning to them. All they 

cared about was that they had each other.   
  


And the Doctor? She shivered again.   
  


She didn't really give a fuck about what the Doctor 

thought.   
  


'Damn, it's dark in here,' she noted absently, flicking on 

the overhead lights of her small living room, though the 

dimness better suited the decidedly grey state of her soul. 

She blinked, more in habit than in actual need to 

compensate for the sudden brightness. Ever since her home 

computer had filled with the first Engineer's research, 

incorporating her own research into humanotech fusion, 

every part of her life had been diametrically changed. 

Augmented eyesight and reaction time was among the least of 

those adaptations.   
  


'Yeah, that's it, Angie.' Her eyes narrowed disdainfully. 

'Consider the data, analyze the reaction time so you won't 

have to remember what actually happened back there. . .'   
  


Frozen and unprotected. Those had been the Doctor's words 

as he killed them . . and the bastard had been grinning 

while he did it. Grinning as he described mass genocide; 

laughing, even, making it into a joke.   
  


A fucking joke.   
  


She felt bile rise again in her throat. There had been no 

attempts at negotiation, no warnings, no attempts to free 

the innocents before Jenny had given the word and the 

Doctor had just raised his arms to hold an entire country 

in place while the world revolved around it. An entire 

fucking country, gone, in the twinkling of an eye. Just 

like that.   
  


Not just the evil and corrupt government, not just the 

Blues- that she would understand. Over the last few months 

she'd come to learn much about the necessity of war. She 

still didn't like it, still felt like a rank novice 

fighting alongside the experienced veterans that made up 

the rest of the team, but now she at least understood that 

sometimes unpleasant measures were required in order to 

save lives. She was becoming a soldier. Soldiers fought 

wars, and in wars people sometimes died. She accepted that. 

It was the cost of building a better world.   
  


But not like this.   
  


A soft knock sounded at her door, interrupting her bleak 

musings.   
  


"Go away," she muttered, the nanoload that replaced nine 

pints of her blood unconsciously seeping out of her pores, 

covering her body with liquid mercury armor. 'No. No 

briefing, not now, I don't think I could stand it-'.   
  


"It's Jack," the words were muffled through the Carrier's 

alien walls. "You still up?"   
  


'Jack,' she groaned, rubbing silver-tipped fingers over 

tired eyes. 'Jack. Not you. Not tonight. . .'   
  


". . . Hold on just a minute." She finally answered, 

tightening the belt of her short kimono. Drawing a deep 

breath, she consciously pulled the nanites back inside her 

body, patting her hair as the Engineer's elaborate 

headpiece and corded wiry hair gave way to her own smooth 

skin and thick black locks.   
  


The door opened to find Jack Hawksmoor, barefoot as always, 

silhouetted against the dim light of the hallway. "Hey," he 

greeted her softly, running a hand through close cropped, 

faintly receding black hair. "Is this a bad time?" He 

shifted uneasily, and she could see that the worry lines 

that creased his face were even deeper than usual this 

evening.   
  


"Hi, Jack," She looked up at him, managing a wan smile for 

his benefit. She stepped back from the door, which closed 

automatically. She motioned him inside. "No, of course not. 

Come on in."   
  


"Sorry come by so late," he apologized, dark eyes 

instinctively darting around her quarters, searching for 

hidden threats. Finding none, he turned to her, studying 

the dullness in her red rimmed eyes, the uncharacteristic 

slump in her shoulders, her faintly detached expression. 

His brow furrowed in concern.   
  


Too tired to even notice his gaze, Angie motioned to one of 

the chairs in the small sitting area of the room. "I 

couldn't sleep anyway," she admitted ruefully, walking over 

to the small makeshift kitchen area. "Can I get you a 

drink?"   
  


"Please," he muttered, lowering himself hesitantly onto an 

ornate wing backed chair, eyeing it askance. "Bourbon, if 

you have it. . ."   
  


"Scotch close enough?" She asked, holding up an already 

opened bottle for his approval.   
  


"Right now, paint thinner would do just fine," he noted 

wryly, grimacing as he tried to get comfortable in the 

straight backed chair, hurriedly pasting a pleasant 

expression on his face as she returned with two crystal 

tumblers full of a dark viscous liquid that sloshed 

slightly as she walked. She eased herself onto the battered 

couch opposite his chair, tucking her legs under her, and 

they clinked glasses.   
  


"Ahhhhhh. Hits the spot," he murmured approvingly, then 

glanced at her drink. "No gin and bitter lemon for you 

tonight?" he teased gently, remembering the conversation 

they'd had only a few scant days ago about the life she'd 

left behind.   
  


She shook her head tightly, face contorting in a frown. 

"No. This is no night for gin- there's nothing to 

celebrate." She sipped the drink slowly, grimacing as the 

strong liquor burned her throat, a dark expression on her 

face. "At least not for me."   
  


He quirked a raven eyebrow, studying her intently. "Jenny 

would disagree with you there."   
  


Angie's shoulders stiffened at the name. "Did she send you 

in here?" Her fingers clenched around the thick crystal of 

the tumbler. "If you're here because she's worried that I-"   
  


"No!" Jack snapped, eyes glowing red for the briefest of 

moments before returning to their usual deep brown. "Nobody 

sent me down here, Angie." His voice was tight and 

controlled, but she could hear the undercurrent of barely 

contained frustration.   
  


Angie was silent, unwilling to meet his gaze.   
  


Rising from his seat, he sat his glass down and jammed his 

hands in his pockets, voice rising angrily. "Fuck. This was 

a mistake. I'll . . . leave." He stared at her another 

moment, spine stiff and straight with unspoken words. "I'll 

see you tomorrow," he muttered through a clenched jaw, and 

turned to go.   
  


She closed her eyes, exhaling sharply. "Jack, wait," she 

finally murmured, stretching out a hand to stop him. He 

hesitated, broad shoulders squared as if awaiting a harsh 

rebuke. She sighed, shaking her head, dark hair obscuring 

her face for a moment. "It's been a long day. I didn't mean 

to be rude. I'm sorry. . ."   
  


He was still for a moment, then turned around to face her, 

arms akimbo. "No problem," he allowed, visibly relaxing. 

"We're all still pretty keyed up over this whole thing. 

Don't worry, it happens." He walked back to his seat.   
  


"Yeah, but that's no excuse for me to act like such an 

iron-clad bitch- no pun intended." This time, her smile was 

small, but genuine.   
  


Jack's lips twisted in a lopsided grin, and he laughed, a 

low rumbling deep in his chest. A few moments passed, and 

they sat in companionable silence, nursing their drinks. 

"Angie- I really did have a reason for stopping by 

tonight-"   
  


"Other than to drink my liquor and deprive me of my beauty 

sleep?" The corners of her eyes crinkled in a smile, and he 

responded in kind.   
  


"Like you need either one," he muttered under his breath. 

"No, seriously. I know you were upset after what happened 

today-"   
  


She snorted, good humor evaporating like the morning mist 

under the hot desert sun. "Figured that one out all by 

yourself, did you? Don't worry, I'm fine." She shrugged in 

an attempt at indifference.   
  


He saw the misgivings and uncertainty beneath the bravado. 

Leaning forward in the chair, elbows balanced on black-clad 

knees, he looked her square in the face.   
  


"You're not the only one with doubts about what happened 

today. Cities died down there today, Angie," he murmured 

bleakly. "Whole cities- gone." He reached down and took his 

glass, tipping it back, relishing the slow burn of the 

liquor as it coursed down his throat, closing his eyes 

against the remembered death wail of the cities, the final 

howls that only he could hear as they cried out and then 

were no more.   
  


Angie nodded slowly, stomach clenching again in nausea as 

the Doctor's words again reverberated through her mind. 

Glancing up at him, she saw her own anguish mirrored in his 

dark eyes; she felt a lump form in her throat. "I know," 

she whispered. "I was there. . ."   
  


He continued as if he hadn't heard her, staring at a point 

on the far wall, curiously distant. "I felt them die," he 

stated matter-of-factly, but she could hear the aching edge 

to his flat tone. "Venice, Rome, Genoa, Florence, Firenze- 

a thousand more- I felt their spirits wrenched away, and 

couldn't do a damn thing about it." He looked down at his 

drink, clenching the glass tighter in his hand, burning 

with an impotent anger. "Not a damn thing."   
  


"Jack-" Her voice cracked. "I don't know what-"   
  


"Let me finish," he interrupted, voice harsher than he'd 

intended. He swallowed tightly, then turned to face her, 

finishing with difficulty. "But. . . what I came here to 

tell you was . . . it was worth it."   
  


Time slowed to a crawl. She shook her head incredulously, 

hissing "How can you *say* that?" She choked, hands 

clenched into fists, fingernails digging perfect crescents 

into her palms. "How do you know that? Who the hell are 

*we* to make those kinds of decisions?"   
  


"Who *else* will if we don't?" He pounded a fist against 

his knee, words pouring out in a cathartic rush. "Angie, I 

meant what I said earlier about saving two worlds. Yeah, 

those cities died, but they knew their death meant 

something! In that last second, they knew that all that was 

left of that bastard Regis and his ilk were dying with 

them, and they were *glad*. They were sacrificing 

themselves for the rest of their- not to mention our- 

world, and they were fuckin' *glad*!"   
  


"How?" She demanded, somehow finding it absolutely 

imperative that she know, that she understand what had 

happened this day. "How could they *do* that so easily? 

Give up life? Give up *everything*, just like that?!?"   
  


This time, it was Jack who drew back, and when he answered 

it was in hoarse, choked whisper. "You didn't see what they 

went through. Angie, the shit they showed me- the horrible 

things that happened to them-" His eyes gleamed red in the 

darkness, and she felt his hatred, was shocked by the 

complete and utter fury in his voice. "I'd nuke our Earth 

myself before I'd let those bastards get ahold of *my* 

cities. There's worse things than death, Angie. . . for the 

cities *and* for us."   
  


She swallowed tightly and nodded, meeting his eyes. "I know 

that," she conceded grudgingly. "I *know* that, but. . " 

Her chin dropped slightly, and stared at him through 

lowered lashes, "But we didn't- Regis was *dead*, Jack, you 

killed him yourself. We could have waited- we should have 

tried something else, anything but-"   
  


He shook his head sharply. "And give them time to regroup, 

time to get away and do it all over again? No. Jenny knows 

them, Angie, knows what they're capable of. She knew better 

than that- taking them by surprise like this was the only 

way to make sure the bastards wouldn't survive." He paused, 

then continued in a sure voice. "She's been doing this a 

long time, Angie. She knows exactly what she's doing."   
  


The woman didn't say anything, just stared into what was 

left of her drink, swirling the remainder of the liquid 

around in the glass, still lost in uncertainty and doubt. 

It was testament to how much she'd changed that she didn't 

even give thought to the fact that she was aboard an alien 

vessel sailing the higher dimensions, discussing the 

sentience and morality of cities of a parallel earth with a 

neohuman who derived his powers from extensive alien 

experimentation.   
  


"We did the right thing," he repeated huskily, smoothing 

out nonexistent wrinkles in his tight black tee shirt. "We 

might have killed, but how many lives did we save by what 

we did today? It wasn't easy, but we did the right thing."   
  


"Did we?" She asked slowly, thinking aloud. "Did we really? 

You weren't up there. You didn't hear the Doctor's laughter 

while he did it- shit, I think he was still high the whole 

time!" Her face contorted in an anguished expression. "You 

didn't see the look on Jenny's face, like she *enjoying* 

it, enjoying seeing the face of a *world* change, Jack, and 

the tone in her voice when she issued those ultimatums-"   
  


Jack shook his head sharply. "Jenny has a lot of bad 

history there, I won't deny it, but. . . I've been working 

with her a long time. I know her better than that- she'll 

do what it takes to get the job done, but even she wouldn't 

drown a whole country out of pure spite." At her dubious 

expression, he continued gently. "I know you might not see 

it like that right now, but that's where it gets into 

trust." His eyes clouded over, and he shook his head 

regretfully. "If there's anything I've learned by working 

with Jenny and Shen, it's that."   
  


She was silent a long while, struggling to come to terms 

with what they'd said here tonight. "Jack?"   
  


"Hmmmmm?"   
  


"Does it ever get easier? This life, I mean. Do you ever 

get used to it?"   
  


There was a awkward pause, and he answered honestly. "Shit, 

Angie, I can't answer that. My life has hardly been what 

anyone would call normal. . . I've been doing this shit for 

as long as I can remember. I wouldn't know easy if it 

jumped up and bit me on the ass."   
  


She just shook her head, trying not to flinch at the 

unspoken pain in his words. "Maybe there's *not* an 

answer," she said softly, harsh realization beginning to 

dawn. "Maybe there's only questions, and we just have to do 

the best we can to answer them."   
  


He tipped up his glass, draining the remainder of the 

drink. "Maybe so," he acknowledged, then sat the empty 

glass down with a dull thud. He rose from the uncomfortable 

chair and stretched. "All I know is this- tonight what's 

left of Albion is sleeping free for the first time in 

generations. Tonight *our* Earth doesn't have to worry 

about invasion by another world," he growled. "We won't 

have to worry about cleaning the filthy bastards out of 

*our* cities. And that's enough for me." 

Angie raised her head thoughtfully. "Maybe you're right," 

she observed carefully, rising to her own feet a bit 

unsteadily. She yawned. "I'll . . . think about it."   
  


"You should," he grunted. "You did a good job today. We all 

did," he hurriedly added. "And I know it's not easy. Just . 

. . think about that when all that other shit comes rushing 

in, OK?"   
  


"I will," she assured him softly, "Thanks, Jack." Even 

though there was no magic answer for the questions that 

plagued her, no anodyne for her troubled soul, she found 

herself breathing easier, tense muscles relaxing ever so 

slightly. With something resembling her usual wit, she 

smirked. "You can pay me for that drink later."   
  


He laughed. "Deal." Silence reigned for a long moment. 

"Well. . . it's getting late." he inclined his head 

awkwardly toward the door, dark eyes flickering in the 

light. "I should be going."   
  


She waited a heartbeat before answering slowly. ". . .Yeah, 

I guess you should."   
  


For a moment, he looked as if he wanted to say something 

else, but his expression darkened and he stopped himself. 

"Yeah." There was a moment's hesitation, then he mumbled 

"Goodnight." With a deep sigh, he pivoted sharply and left 

the room, the door automatically closing tightly behind 

him.   
  


"Goodnight," she breathed, staring at the closed door, lost 

in thought. With a sigh, she turned and flicked off the 

lights, staring into the blackness a long while before she 

turned to go to bed. She fell asleep almost instantly, but 

before she did, she looked back into the dim room.   
  


Somehow the shadows didn't seem quite as dark as they had 

before.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


finis   
  


=====   
  


-DuAnn   
  
  
  


Peace I leave with you; my peace I give unto you. Not as the 

world gives, give I unto you. Do not let your hearts be 

troubled and do not be afraid. 

-John 14:27 

://auctions.yahoo.com 


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